


Mistakes happen.

by Anihan (Nakagami)



Series: Jim and John, and Moran watches on. [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:19:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakagami/pseuds/Anihan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Violence and guilt abound. So, too, do the seeds of friendship. Johann must deal with all of them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next several segments follow up on what happened after the events in Fullstop. Future segments go into detail about the events in chapter five, including semi-graphic and graphic violence. Updates shall be short and added separately, not as chapters. Summary applies to all posts pertaining to this arc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistakes happen.

"It says here your name is John Watson."

Johann shifts in her plastic chair, hands folded loosely in her lap. A long shaky breath out follows a long breath in, and she gives a sort of half shrug and refuses to meet his eyes. "...I do wish people would stop calling me that."

The cop leans forward in his seat. "You are not John Watson?"

"Oh no, I am." Cavalier with the acknowledgment though she is, the girl's shoulders don't ease in the slightest. She's worried, agitated, and she bites off the next words, forming a chastisement buried in the brutal civility. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. It's pronounced Johann, the Y sound for the J. Only Dad calls me John."

"And who is your father?"

With an expression burning sullen now, she looks him in the eye to glare.

"You should know who my dad is."

"Not your father?" Her eyes return to the table and the officer makes a huff of satisfaction. "Of course not. Do you know why you were brought here, Miss Watson?"

"Yes. And I know I won't go back."

The man shifts in his seat; Obviously, he disagrees. "You left the hospital without checking out. No last check up, no medication. Surely you're in pain by now. We can help you."

"Not yet."

The main shifts tactics. "You appear to be willing to talk to us but you haven't said anything useful yet. Is there something you want to say?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to tell me?"

"No."

The man grimaces. "Care to be more specific?"

"Yes, I want to say something, but no, I'm not saying it to you. Where's my dad?"

"Is there a reason you don't want to talk to me specifically?"

Johann rolls her eyes slowly, deliberately, and raises both eye brows incredulously just after. It looks a little silly. "Is there a reason you've not introduced yourself? I've seen a lot of cop movies, yeah, but even they manage introductions with limited screen time."

The man looks mildly taken aback. Johann rolls her eyes and then closes them, and leans carefully forward until her forehead rests on the table, the motion jarring even with her finest amount of control. Nausea is thick in her teeth. "I want a different officer. You're biased."

"Well that's a big word for a little girl."

"I've led a big life. Now go, please, you're making my headache worse."

He goes, and another officer comes in to sit with her while someone else can be fetched.

This other officer is also male, but taller, grey-haired and rugged. His smile makes her smile, so they're both smiling when he kneels in order to peer up at her face from underneath its perch on the table's edge. He's soothing, knelt on the floor like that. There's no malice in his actions. Johann immediately likes him.

"Hey there," he says, quiet so as to not disturb her reported headache. "I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade. I know you've been through a lot today so I'm here to sit with you, maybe get you a sandwich, yeah? You hungry?"

Johann's eyes close. "You the good cop?"

"Something like that. You like provalone or do I have to find some of that fake plastic stuff?"

She giggles, grimaces, and then grins through the pain. "Sure. I'm game s'long as there's ham or turkey. And real mayo."

"Tasty. Give me a moment, I'll see what I can come up with."

Mister Good Cop goes to the door. He doesn't go through the doorway. Johann watches him speak with another cop waiting outside, and he doesn't go back to sit on the far side of the table when he's done ordering the food. There's an extra chair next to hers, bolted to the ground just like the one she's in, and he goes to sit in it and leans back with a groan, stretching.

"Mister Good Cop?"

His face twists in disapproval; he must not like the moniker so she smiles, determined to use it even more. "Yes?"

"Can I have chocolate milk with that?"

There's a grunt followed by a puff of laughter. "Sure thing."

When the food comes and it's exactly how she likes, with Andes mints on the side and everything, and the detective opens his own sandwich to add mayo and eat _with_ her, Johann knows. There's no question in her mind. She puts her sandwich down and wipes her hands on her shirt.

"Mister Good Cop?"

"Hm?"

"I'll talk to you, if you want. About my dad."

"Sure, if you want," he parrots. "After you finish your food."

She nods stiffly and obeys. He slides his mint over to her side of the table and she hesitates.

"Go on," he rumbles. After a moment, she does.


End file.
